


Moments and Memories

by Altenprano



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/M, July fanfiction bonanza, banna - Freeform, mixed genre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-07 11:46:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1897803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Altenprano/pseuds/Altenprano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My contribution to the Downton Abbey July Fanfiction Bonanza-thing, launched by a-tardis-at-Downton (I think) on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  So I know it's well into July, but circumstances have kept me from dutifully updating, and I apologize.  
> Disclaimer: I do not own Downton Abbey.  
> July 1st's prompt: novel

"You seem distracted," John said, watching his wife's features with attentive care. Even in this lighting, there was no mistaking the worry in her features, from the tightness in her jaw to the fleeting look in her eyes that reminded him of a frightened rabbit.

Silently, he cursed himself, realizing how obvious Anna's distress had been, and how he ought to have gone straight to her and presented her with the ultimatum he'd given Mrs. Hughes. He doubted she would've told him even then, with the attack fresh in her memory, even if he'd threatened to leave. She would've let him, he realized, with the same desperate persistence he'd heard in her voice when she'd insisted that he go to America with His Lordship. 

"I was just thinking...I suppose," she answered, reaching for his hand across the table, curling her delicate fingers under his.

He took her hand in both of his, gently lifting it to his lips, watching her closely, afraid to spook her and destroy whatever progress they had made towards putting the past behind them. "About what?" He asked, risking the sensitivity of such a question.

Anna shook her head, a gesture John now read as meaning "nothing," or simply, "I don't want to talk about it," and he didn't press her further. As much as her sudden silences pained him, he knew that she found some kind of safety in them. God knew he did too, which made for a fine description of the couple. A pair if brooders.

"Do you want to keep reading?" He knew she liked reading, as well as being read to, and he hoped it would bring her some peace, to focus on a reality that was not their own. "I didn't read ahead, if that's what you're worried about," he added. 

It was true, he hadn't.

He hadn't so much as looked at the novel he'd bought for the two of them to share when he's been in Ripon, before the house party. It seemed like such a long time ago, and, perhaps it was simply age getting to him at last, but he could scarcely remember the book's title. 

Anna nodded, a strained smile on her lips. "Yes," she said, some brightness returning to her expression. "I'd like that...very much."

"It's settled," he said, a smile breaking the gentle set of his lips.

"Though, Mr. Bates, one thing."

"Of course Anna. Anything."

He meant it. He would truly do anything for Anna, even if it meant his absence from her life. If it made her happier, he would do it, no questions asked.

"Could we start from the beginning? It's been a while, and we might benefit from starting over...to refresh our memories."

"Of course my dear."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  So this is July 4th's prompt: "future." I'm skipping about a bit because a lot of them are handwritten and won't be up for a while. Those that I do have typed, however, shall be posted, I promise.  
> Disclaimer: I do not own Downton Abbey

            She couldn’t believe it—she just couldn’t.

            Even now, with the child sleeping peacefully in her arms, Anna didn’t believe that it was actually happening. It had to be a dream, a really good dream. She and Mr. Bates, though they still retained some hint of faith, had long ago come to terms with the fact that she would never bear his child— _their_ child—and had left it at that. They knew better than to get their hopes up, that just letting it be was best for the both of them.

            She hadn’t believed it when Dr. Clarkson had confirmed their tentatively-constructed hopes that she might finally be with child, and she remembered that Mr. Bates had hardly believed it when she’d told him that night, after His Lordship and Lady Mary had been seen to.  She recalled how surprised he’d seemed, but she’d also seen the pride in his eyes, pride he had every right to feel, especially after a (understandably) childless marriage with Vera, and five years of the same problem. No doubt he had blamed himself, but Anna suspected that Vera had taken measures to avoid having a child, especially in a relationship as loveless as hers to Mr. Bates seemed to have been.

            The pregnancy, it seemed, had been the easy part. She’d allowed Mrs. Hughes and Mrs. Baxter to share her duties as a lady’s maid, restricting herself to mending any garments she could get her hands on, as well as helping Mrs. Hughes with her ledgers and lodging arrangements. Anything to keep Thomas or Jimmy complaining about her being a, in words Mrs. O’Brien might have used, “burden to the staff,” really. Mr. Carson didn’t comment on her waxing stomach, as long as she kept out of sight when there were guests (which was rarely), which was something she knew to do anyways. 

            Both she and Mr. Bates had decided that it would be best if she moved back to Downton as she neared the end of her pregnancy, so if she went into labor, there would be people other than Mr. Bates (who, despite being a man of many talents, Anna suspected, did not know how to deliver a baby) to help her. Mrs. Hughes had agreed, and it hadn’t taken much to arrange for Anna to occupy her old room once more, and Anna knew the housekeeper would take advantage of being able to keep a constant eye on the young woman that-- at least in Mrs. Hughes’s eyes— she had come to see as a daughter.

            There was a soft knock on the door, rousing Anna from the temporary haze that seemed to settle over her fatigued mind.

            “Come in,” she said quietly, so as not to wake her child, who was only a few days old, too young to understand the world entirely, but young enough to be easily woken.

            The door opened, its creaking barely audible, and perhaps it was silent, but Anna had spent many years in this room—she knew what the door opening sounded like.  She heard the soft footsteps and cautious tap of her husband’s cane on the floor, and immediately moved a little to the side, her body, which was still recovering from her being in labor, protesting.

            Mr. Bates came and sat beside her on the bed, his expression indecipherable in the near darkness of her room, but Anna knew that he was smiling. And why wouldn’t he? She’d borne his child, a lovely baby girl who had her mother’s eyes and her father’s dark hair and nonchalant disposition (so far, anyway). He had every right to be proud, and after everything they’d endured together, they were finally beginning to get the happy ending they deserved, weren’t they? 

            “You don’t need to come check on me every hour, you know,” Anna said, easing herself into a sort of sitting position, her baby girl cradled more firmly in her arms.

            “I’m sorry if I’m bothering you, but—“

            “You’re nervous, I know.” A drowsy smile graced her lips, and she reached for her husband’s hand as he took a seat on her bed. “You heard what Dr. Clarkson said: everything’s normal, no obvious complications, and our child is perfectly healthy.”

            She could understand some of his worry. Too many pregnancies under Downton’s roof had ended in some sort of tragedy or another. Her Ladyship’s miscarriage, Lady Sybil’s death, Mr. Matthew’s motor accident after the birth of Master George, and the general misfortune that had accompanied Ethel Parks after the birth of her son. Perhaps he thought it to be some sort of curse cast over the place, though she doubted it. She didn’t think of Mr. Bates as being superstitious, no, not him. He was more practical than that, and if anyone among the staff was superstitious, it would be either Mrs. Patmore or Daisy.  

            “She’s so lovely,” he said, reaching to take the child from her. “Just like her mother.”

            Anna felt heat rise in her cheeks at Mr. Bates’s compliment. “Well then we’ll have to hope she is as clever as her father, won’t we? Or will she be too much trouble?” she teased as she let Mr. Bates hold her child, hoping that she wouldn’t wake up and cause a fuss.

            “I would hope not.”  His eyes shone with a tenderness that Anna had only seen directed at her before, not at someone or something else, as he held the sleeping child. “We can’t refer to her as “her” forever, can we?”

            A smile spread across her lips. “I was thinking about calling her Margaret—Maggie for short, or Meg, whatever you think fits best. What do you think?”

            “You wanted to name her “Mary,” didn’t you?”

            “It wasn’t the first thought in my mind, though…I suppose I can see where you’re coming from with that.”

            “Maggie Bates,” he said, testing the sound of the name. “I think it’s wonderful. Do you have any middle names in mind?”

            “I haven’t gotten that far yet, Mr. Bates,” Anna replied. “She was born only four days ago, at least give me some time.”

            “All the time you need, darling,” he said, leaning over to kiss her tenderly on the cheek. “All the time you need.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! I'm trying to balance fluff and angst, so today was a baby Bates...


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  So here's July 5th's prompt: bombs.  
> Set pre-marriage. Sad fluff.  
> Disclaimer: I don't own Downton Abbey

“Did you hear the news?”

            John looked up at the sound of Anna’s voice, unable to do anything but grimace slightly at the small hint of distress he heard in her usually bright tone. Whatever news it was, it certainly wasn’t good, and what use was it, really, to expect good news while they were at war? Everywhere in the papers, there were reports on the war, lists of who was dead, of who was missing, or what various MPs thought about the war effort. There was no avoiding it, it seemed, and when people weren’t talking about it, they were thinking about it, turning the grim prospect of losing over in their minds.

            “No, I didn’t,” he said, pausing his mending as he spoke. He’d been mending His Lordship’s uniform (for the hem of the trousers had begun to fray, and it was better to fix it before it became too severe), another reminder of war, though this one was, by far, more appealing visually than the photos of soldiers wounded by gunfire or blinded by gas. “Is everything alright?”

            He knew it wasn’t, just from looking at Anna.  Her voice betrayed her almost enough that he could come to the conclusion that something was most certainly wrong, and her brows were drawn together in an unmistakable expression of concern. It surprised him, really, to see her being so open about her distress—whether she knew it or not.

 She—as well as Mrs. Hughes, he supposed—was one of the more private people when it came to her emotions towards certain affairs. When the news of the war had circulated downstairs, she’d only acknowledged it with a terse nod before asking if she should make up an extra bed in the servants’ quarters for Ms. Lavinia’s maid, which had ended up being unnecessary. She was almost as immovable about such things as Mr. Carson was, which made John want to laugh, because she and the butler were very different when it came to the plights of others, which wasn’t to say that Mr. Carson was completely apathetic, but Anna was certainly more sympathetic and would try to do everything in her power to help improve the situation if she could.

Anna shook her head, coming to sit beside him— _Odd,_ he thought, _usually she sits across from me._ “William’s back,” she said, after a few moments’ hesitation.

It took a few moments for him to realize why this in itself might be bad news. Soldiers didn’t come back from the front unharmed, at the end of a war or its beginning, it didn’t matter, since war didn’t even spare the mind any damage. In the middle of a war especially, any soldiers who came home weren’t sent back because they’d served the time required of them (at least not William, who’d only left about three months ago with Mr. Matthew), and he, of all people, ought to have known this, having been sent back after he’d been wounded in Africa.

            “Is he alright?” It was a silly question to ask—stupid, almost—but John couldn’t find any other words to fill the fragile silence between them. He could sense Anna’s distress, he could practically feel it coming off of her delicate body in waves, and he wanted nothing more than to make it better somehow, to put an end to it and give her only happiness for the rest of her life. She deserved it, all right. She deserved that and so much more.

            She shook her head, and he noticed, for the first time, a shine in her eyes, which he knew often preceded tears. “He’s very badly injured,” she said, obviously choosing her words so that she didn’t become more upset than she appeared to be. “Dr.—Major—Clarkson doesn’t think he had long to live.”

            “Well you mustn’t give up hope,” he told her, taking her hands in his and wishing he could do more to comfort her than he was.

            “I know, but…”

            “But what, Anna?” The sudden firmness in his tone startled him, and he felt shame send blood and heat rushing to his cheeks. What right did he have to be so harsh to a woman as sweet as Anna, who’d done nothing to deserve his sudden sternness?

He knew that Anna and William had been close friends as children, and if Anna lost William it would be like losing a sibling _and_ a best friend. For all John knew, Anna’s only true friends at Downton (not counting Mrs. Hughes) were William and himself, and Anna barely knew John, at least like she knew William. He couldn’t imagine the loneliness that would follow losing someone you’d worked alongside for most of your life in service, someone who understood your family background and valued hard work as much as you did.

 _It would be horribly lonely_ , he supposed after some thought, _to lose someone like that._  

He knew that she would still have him—and he hoped she knew too—but they were similar in a different way than her and William. Anna and William were similar in the sense of if you cut an apple in half, the two halves mirror each other completely and have had more or less the same experience and are from the same tree. John and Anna, on the other hand, were similar in the sense of two birds of the same species, which sing the same song and fly together, but have had different experiences and seen different kinds of places.

“It makes me dislike this war even more than I already do,” she admitted, placing her head against his shoulder. “Because of this war…because of all the bombs and chemical weapons, so many people that we know are dying and I know it’s selfish to say, but I wish we could be done with it already.”

“It’s not selfish,” he reassured her, his hand moving to her shoulder, cradling her gently with one arm. The gesture was very forward—perhaps bordering on inappropriate, given their relationship and the fact that he was a married man—but John didn’t care.

Seeing Anna close to tears over William’s fate was enough to make him throw caution to the wind and comfort her in a way words simply couldn’t. He wanted her to know she would be okay, that whatever happened, he would be there for her. It didn’t matter that he was married—he loved and cherished Anna enough that they would find a way to get beyond that—or that they kept their affair practically a secret from everyone else. If comforting her meant exposing their relationship, then so be it. He would do anything for her, anything she asked.

“Thomas would think it selfish—Mr. Carson too.”

He gave his head a small shake. “You mustn’t let them tell you how to feel over this, Anna,” he told her. “Only you can do that.”

“I know…” He felt her lift her head from his shoulder, and he let his arm fall from her shoulder. “I don’t want him to die though. What about Daisy? They were going to get married, though I suppose you knew that. I can only imagine, having your fiancé die like that. It’s horrible.”

“It is, but that’s what happens in war, isn’t it?”  

“It’s still horrible.”

“I know it is,” he said, finding that his mind was drifting back to Africa, and he thought he could feel his knee as it’d been when he’d been so severely injured that they’d sent him home and he’d been forced to rely on a cane. “But it ends. All things have to.”

“I suppose you’re right,” she said, pressing her lips together in thought. “There isn’t much we can do, is there?”

“True, but we do what we can, and before you know it, this will all be over, I promise.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed, and know that there is more on the way!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  So this is July 6th's prompt, which was "socks."  
> This one is set somewhere in S1, I think, so I hope you enjoy.  
> Disclaimer: I don't own Downton Abbey...I wish I did...

Anna watched from across the table as Mr. Bates mended a pair of his socks, amazed at how quick his hands were with a needle and thread. It wasn’t as if she was unaccustomed to seeing men sew—William and Thomas did their fair share of mending—but it was somehow different, watching Mr. Bates sew. It just didn’t make sense, for some reason.

            Seeing William sew as well as any woman she knew made sense to her, because he played piano with the same quick accuracy that sewing required. He was easily better than Thomas, though Thomas had the eye for small details that must come from being the son of a clockmaker, which resulted in him touching up any articles of clothing that were monogramed instead of William. Mr. Bates, however, didn’t have anything to explain his deft movements, at least that Anna knew, and she wasn’t going to pry.

            _He’s a trained valet, of course he knows how to sew well,_ she chided herself, hoping he didn’t notice her staring at his hands and marveling at how deeply concentrated he seemed to be on the task of mending his socks. 

            Beside her, Gwen looked up from the mending that they’d decided to split, a strategy the two often employed to take advantage of the time it afforded them to be alone. Truth be told, Anna wanted to do the mending all by herself, so she would have an excuse to be in the same room with Mr. Bates for an extended period of time, just watching him in silence.

            _Oh stop that, won’t you? He’s probably got his heart set elsewhere, or nowhere at all._

            She forced her attention back on the lace she’d been repairing—Gwen wasn’t as good with lace as she was with fringes and beads, which Anna found a bit difficult. It was better if she got on with her work and didn’t let herself get caught up with Mr. Bates. It was enough to be kind to him, to be his friend when he clearly needed one, and she didn’t want to ruin their friendship by developing any other sort of affections towards him. He was a valet, practically indispensable to the staff, and she was nothing more than the head housemaid, and even though her post was one of influence, it wasn’t as crucial, and she could easily be replaced. If she wasn’t careful, her slight affection could spark an affair, and if they got caught, the fall would be taken by her, and she would leave for another household. 

            And what if he did fancy someone else?

            There was no use in setting your heart on something you weren’t ever going to get, no matter how hard you tried, now was there? She might as well dream to live the life she watched in passing on her way to clear the parlor of afternoon tea. No good came of unrequited love, and though it was all very romantic-sounding of a notion, it wasn’t something she wanted to live with. She had no desire to torment herself over a man she’d never have outside of her dreams.

            _Just leave it. No good’ll come of it, so you’re best off letting it die before it can even grow in full._

            Still, watching him darn his socks, the needle flashing in his finger, in out, in out, like a silver fish leaping in a stream, her heart fluttered in her chest. She was in love, she was sure. Against her better judgment, she’d fallen in love with him, and she wasn’t sure if she’d regret it or not. Her more practical self—the self she thought was her only self—was telling her that she would, that it would bring her nothing but sorrow, but the part of her that clearly had little regard for practicality was urging her onward, telling her that it would be worth it, that this was her destiny, to be with him.

            _What happens happens,_ she thought, tying off the thread she was using. _Don’t lose sleep or ruin work over it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this installment! Once more, apologies because it's all out of order, but I shall type everything up, I promise. Please comment or review or do something, because it means a ton! Thank you!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  This is July 2nd's prompt, "wet." I know it's out of order, but please bear with, as this is all half-written, half-typed and lingering in various places.  
> Disclaimer: I don't own Downton Abbey, as previously stated. 

   "Goodness, what happened to you?" 

   Anna knew she should've anticipated Mr. Bates's reaction to her returning to their cottage soaking wet, but she couldn't help but be a little embarrassed. She probably looked like she'd been tossed in Downton's duck pond, rather than the truth, which was that she'd neglected to bring an umbrella with her today.

   But why would she have thought to do that? The skies had been a lovely, clear blue all morning-- it'd been a proper spring morning, she and Madge had concluded, though, like any spring day, rain was certain to follow.  She'd been a fool for thinking the skies would be clear all morning, really.

   "You know what they say, Mr. Bates," she said as she shed her coat and hung it on the back of a chair facing the heart,before placing her (probably ruined at this point) hat on the same chair.  

   Her husband laughed as he watched her track water around the cottage. "What do they say? Or is it a secret that only lady's maids know?" he teased. 

   "I wouldn't keep any secrets from you, Mr. Bates," she replied, letting her hair down and twisting it into a lose braid, her hands soon becoming soaked from all the water. "Have you honestly never heard about April showers?" 

   His face lit up in recognition. "About how they bring May flowers? Yes, I suppose I have. And it's true, isn't it, Mrs. Anna May? My lovely little Anna May." 

   She laughed, the chill of rainwater forgotten. "That's very kind of you, Mr. Bates," she said, pecking him affectionately on the cheek. "How was your half-day?" 

   He caught her gently by the nape of her neck, turning her head so the kiss was now between their lips.  He could taste the rain on her skin, a clear, fresh tasted that only added another dimension to the scent of lavender that she adored so much. She smiled, an action he was aware of only because he felt it against his lips, and he smiled in return. 

   "I love you," she whispered, her tone as if she were disclosing some great secret. 

   "Well aren't we lucky that I love you too?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope this one was alright...I dunno, I hope you enjoyed it anyways, and thanks for being such a wonderful readership!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  So this is July 6th's prompt, "socks."  
> I understand that I am horribly behind on these, but I swear it is for a good cause!  
> Disclaimer: I don't own Downton Abbey, otherwise we would get nice things, and I hope you enjoy this little drabble.

Anna watched from across the table as Mr. Bates mended a pair of his socks, amazed at how quick his hands were with a needle and thread. It wasn’t as if she was unaccustomed to seeing men sew—William and Thomas did their fair share of mending—but it was somehow different, watching Mr. Bates sew. It just didn’t make sense, for some reason.

            Seeing William sew as well as any woman she knew made sense to her, because he played piano with the same quick accuracy that sewing required. He was easily better than Thomas, though Thomas had the eye for small details that must come from being the son of a clockmaker, which resulted in him touching up any articles of clothing that were monogramed instead of William. Mr. Bates, however, didn’t have anything to explain his deft movements, at least that Anna knew, and she wasn’t going to pry.

            _He’s a trained valet, of course he knows how to sew well,_ she chided herself, hoping he didn’t notice her staring at his hands and marveling at how deeply concentrated he seemed to be on the task of mending his socks. 

            Beside her, Gwen looked up from the mending that they’d decided to split, a strategy the two often employed to take advantage of the time it afforded them to be alone. Truth be told, Anna wanted to do the mending all by herself, so she would have an excuse to be in the same room with Mr. Bates for an extended period of time, just watching him in silence.

            _Oh stop that, won’t you? He’s probably got his heart set elsewhere, or nowhere at all._

            She forced her attention back on the lace she’d been repairing—Gwen wasn’t as good with lace as she was with fringes and beads, which Anna found a bit difficult. It was better if she got on with her work and didn’t let herself get caught up with Mr. Bates. It was enough to be kind to him, to be his friend when he clearly needed one, and she didn’t want to ruin their friendship by developing any other sort of affections towards him. He was a valet, practically indispensable to the staff, and she was nothing more than the head housemaid, and even though her post was one of influence, it wasn’t as crucial, and she could easily be replaced. If she wasn’t careful, her slight affection could spark an affair, and if they got caught, the fall would be taken by her, and she would leave for another household. 

            And what if he did fancy someone else?

            There was no use in setting your heart on something you weren’t ever going to get, no matter how hard you tried, now was there? She might as well dream to live the life she watched in passing on her way to clear the parlor of afternoon tea. No good came of unrequited love, and though it was all very romantic-sounding of a notion, it wasn’t something she wanted to live with. She had no desire to torment herself over a man she’d never have outside of her dreams.

            _Just leave it. No good’ll come of it, so you’re best off letting it die before it can even grow in full._

            Still, watching him darn his socks, the needle flashing in his finger, in out, in out, like a silver fish leaping in a stream, her heart fluttered in her chest. She was in love, she was sure. Against her better judgment, she’d fallen in love with him, and she wasn’t sure if she’d regret it or not. Her more practical self—the self she thought was her only self—was telling her that she would, that it would bring her nothing but sorrow, but the part of her that clearly had little regard for practicality was urging her onward, telling her that it would be worth it, that this was her destiny, to be with him.

            _What happens happens,_ she thought, tying off the thread she was using. _Don’t lose sleep or ruin work over it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it and thank you so much for reading! Comments and critiques are always welcome (and very much appreciated). Thank you!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed the first installment!


End file.
